Child of a Consulting Criminal
by Tetsuhana
Summary: Written for Dark Magical Sorcres who requested more "Pity Moriarty" fiction. Sherlock has made a rather startling discovery... wrapped in a towel no less, when a young lady from America stops in for a visit demanding that she locate her father. Rated T, just in case.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes had had a rather tedious morning and had ended up a bloody, filthy mess. He went into the bathroom and took a well-deserved shower, washing away the mess, and a bit of the stress, if only for a moment. He came out, wrapped in a towel, to see a child sitting on his couch where John typically would sit. She was so American it was almost painful to look at. She wore a black shirt that said "Team Edward" on it and Miley Cyrus brand jeans. She had Sketchers brand shoes, the kind that had rhinestones on the toes. Her brown hair was tied back into a high ponytail and she was chewing on some bubblegum. She looked up.

"Mr. Holmes, it's a pleasure to meet ya," she said, holding out her hand to shake his, not seeming to care that he was in nothing but a towel. Sherlock just sort of stared at her hand and didn't shake it. He looked her over several times. Sherlock estimated that she was about nine or ten, but she didn't behave in the atypical style of her age bracket.

"And you are?" Sherlock had to ask.

"I'm Robin Gale," the girl said.

"Right… Robin Gale, I'm just going to pop over to my bedroom and get some pants," Sherlock said with a smile, "Why don't you just wait right there."

"Like duh. That's what I've been doing for the past half hour while you were in the bathroom," Robin said. She pulled her gum out of her mouth, twisting it around her well-manicured finger before re-depositing it past lip gloss coated lips.

Sherlock was quick. His main objective was pants, which he obtained quickly. Though it seemed odd, he could tell the little girl was there on business. She was a client, or a prospective one, so he pulled on a dress shirt and walked back out into the sitting room and saw John sitting next to the girl.

"Are you lost then?" John asked.

"Uh… no," Robin said, "I am like totally exactly where I want to be."

"Are you sure?" John asked, "Sherlock doesn't really work well with children.. Umm… if you're lost I can get you a map, or really just, take you wherever you're headed."

"She's where she wants to be John," Sherlock said. He walked over and looked at the girl with a critical eye, reading her. Even John could tell that she was American. Everything from her clothes, to her speech to her demeanor screamed it. She was pretty well to do, everything she was wearing was name brand, and not cheap.

"So… Miss Gale, why are you here?" Sherlock asked.

"Like, you're Sherlock Holmes right? Why don't you, like, tell me?" the girl asked, blowing a short lived bubble. The pop cut through the sudden silence of the room. Sherlock was looking at her intensely.

"You've come to England specifically to speak with me," Sherlock said, "My address is scrawled on the back of your plane ticket. It's a one way plane ticket so you are intending to stay in England for a somewhat long period of time. However, what I need from you, is why exactly have you come here to speak to me?"

"Like, I need you to find my dad," Robin said, "The orphanage place he put me in is driving me crazy. I can't stand it. He sends me money. I never want for anything, except that this place is like, so completely boring. His checks are never signed with a real name. All I know is that his last name starts with an M. There's always a seal on his letters."

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought. Was this case worth his time? Finding a father? He wasn't sure. But, despite what John thought, Sherlock always did have a slight weak spot for children. Seeing them absolutely helpless, he couldn't help but aid them a bit. He'd never admit he cared though.

"Do you have one of the checks with you?" Sherlock asked.

"Uh, no. I cash them, duh," Robin said, "I have a photo copy. And here's the envelope."

Sherlock looked at the paper. She had photocopied a couple of different checks with varying names on them, never written, always stamped like a government check. He looked at the names. It was usually a set of initials and not even a full name. He looked at the envelope she had handed him and dropped it like it had burned him.

"What's wrong? Did you like, notice something?" Robin asked, leaning forward.

"Sherlock… what is it?" John asked.

"Nothing… I need to think," Sherlock said, "John, why don't you take Miss Gale downstairs to meet Mrs. Hudson and have a nice cup of tea."

"Uh… ok," John said.

"No way!" Robin said, "I want to know what you're thinking! I'm not dumb, I know you noticed something!"

"Miss Gale, if you want me to find your father, you'll kindly SHUT UP!" Sherlock said. The child harrumphed and walked downstairs with the doctor. Sherlock sent a text.

"Want to come out and play? –SH"

"No. –JM"

"Don't you care anymore? –SH"

"I'm busy. –JM"

"No time for me? Or are you just worried about your missing child? – SH"

"Missing child? – JM"

"Yes, the one that I found sitting on my sofa; a Miss Robin Gale from America. –SH"

"What do you want? –JM"

"Meet me at Mario's Diner on 8th Street in 15 minutes. Bring only your phone and your wallet. Nothing else. –SH"

"Done. Don't hurt her. –JM"

Sherlock closed his phone after reading the last text. _Like I'd really hurt a little girl_. He thought, shaking his head.

"John, I have to go out," Sherlock said on his way out the door.

"But… Sherlock… the girl…" John mumbled.

"Yes, do see that she's taken care of," Sherlock said, "Thanks."

Sherlock jumped into a cab and had it take him to the diner. It was about a 12 minute drive from his flat, but as the cab pulled up, he saw Moriarty already there waiting for him. He was in street clothes so not to draw attention to himself, and though no one else might have noticed, Sherlock could see the anxiety. The consulting detective stepped out of his cab and saw Moriarty's dark eyes snap over to him.

"Good morning," Sherlock said politely, but Jim was in no mood for trivialities.

"Where is she?" he asked, grabbing onto Sherlock's coat. The grab was meant to be intimidating, but Jim's voice and eyes betrayed him. He was terrified.

"She's safe," Sherlock said. He couldn't help but enjoy this feeling of holding the trump card. "We'll talk over coffee."

Jim looked like he was going to protest but Sherlock was already going inside.

"Coffee, black with two sugars please," he told the waiter as he watched Jim sit down, looking very uncomfortable and very nervous. To the untrained eye he probably looked fine, but Sherlock knew better.

"Tea for me please," Jim said, "Bring the cream and sugar out with it."

They both never broke eye contact as they made their orders and when the waiter left Jim was the first to speak.

"If you hurt her, I'll skin you alive," Jim said, trying to be threatening, but it didn't work.

"If you threaten me again, I'll hurt her," Sherlock said calmly. It was a lie. He wouldn't hurt a nine-year-old girl, no matter who her father was.

"You're bluffing," Jim said.

"Are you willing to take that risk?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows. The waiter came back with their coffee and tea and Sherlock saw Jim's shoulders slump as all the fight just deflated out of him. The man left. Sherlock lifted his cup to his lips and sipped his coffee, his eyes never leaving Moriarty.

"What do you want?" Jim asked. Sherlock closed his eyes as he sipped his coffee. What _did _he want? He was enjoying the sway he held over this powerful man, and he didn't want it to end.

"You'll do whatever I say?" Sherlock asked. Jim sighed, their eye contact breaking as he lowered his gaze.

"Yes…" the criminal said softly, "Just don't hurt her."

"She came here looking for you, you know," Sherlock shifted the topic slightly, "She came to me, to hire me to find you."

Jim looked up again for a moment, then lowered his eyes and put his cream and sugar into his tea, mixing it silently.

"So, provided I don't hurt your daughter, what am I going to do with her?" Sherlock pressed. Jim sipped the warm beverage, his eyes still lowered and on the table.

"Send her back to America," the criminal said, "I'll cover the expenses. Send her home. Tell her she doesn't have a father. She has a benefactor. Make it out to be a school or organization. Just make sure she goes home."

Sherlock scowled. He reached across the table and forced Jim's face up so they made eye contact again.

"You're serious? Your little girl ran away from home and boarded a plane, wandered through London to find me and caught me getting out of the shower. She asks me to find her father whom she has never known and now I'm supposed to tell her that you don't exist and she should just go back to the orphanage that is driving her mad with boredom?"

"She can't stay here," Jim said, "If anyone knew she was mine…"

"They could do what I'm doing hmm? Use her against you, is that the problem?" Sherlock sounded angry and annoyed.

A few moments of silence reigned over them. Jim sipped his tea.

"You're meeting her," Sherlock said, "Not today, but you are meeting her at the very least. I'm not sending her back to America without letting her see you."

"Sherlock… please…" Jim bit his lower lip, "It's not just about her being used against me… I just don't want to see her get hurt."

"No buts, I'm not sending her back without seeing you," Sherlock said. He dropped some money on the table for his coffee and left the diner.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock returned to his flat. Robin had made herself quite at home and was baking with Mrs. Hudson. As soon as Sherlock entered the building an overwhelming scent of chocolate nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Hi, Mr. Holmes!" Robin said cheerfully, "Mrs. Hudson and I are baking cookies."

The little girl looked up at him with her brown eyes and all that Sherlock could see was Jim Moriarty. He turned away_. Cookies?_ _Jim Moriarty, if you heard your girl talking..._

"That's nice," he said neutrally. It was nice to see that she could actually behave like a child. "I don't really care much for chocolate."

"What? Seriously?" Robin asked, "That's crazy!"

The little girl hopped up from her seat, took a warm chocolate chip cookie and ran over to Sherlock. She stood on her tip-toes and more or less shoved it into his slightly agape mouth. Sherlock almost choked, mostly from the surprise of having a biscuit shoved into his mouth. He wasn't about to spit out a biscuit made by a little girl, so he chewed and swallowed and it wasn't bad. He gave her a smile, and watched her face light up.

"Did you talk with my dad?" Robin asked. Sherlock looked at her. Behind her innocent façade he saw the eyes of someone who had the same kind of clever mind as himself at that age. He decided there was no point in skirting around the issue. He didn't typically sugarcoat things anyway, even for children.

"Yes, I did," Sherlock said. He looked at her thoughtfully. "You knew right away that I knew who your dad was, didn't you?"

"Duh, you dropped the envelope like it was going to bite you. That means that my dad is either like your rival or something, or your enemy. So, which one is it Mr. Holmes?" Robin looked up at him with a smug sort of smile. More than ever, Sherlock saw her father in her face and let his eyes glance away for a moment.

"He's my enemy," Sherlock said, making eye contact again. She smiled, but her eyes looked annoyed.

"Right, laterz!" she said, waving a bit and heading for the door. Sherlock grabbed her by the wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her. The little girl looked up at him, her innocent look completely gone.

"I'm not going to let you use me to get to my dad. I'd sooner die. I'll find him myself now. Thanks so much for your services Mr. Holmes. Money's in an envelope on the couch upstairs," Robin said, "Now kindly, remove your hand from my wrist or I'll be taking it with me."

"Robin," Sherlock said, "You can't go out there."

"I won't let you use me," Robin whispered angrily.

"Robin, let's have a chat," Sherlock said, "When I'm done talking, if you really want to go, I won't stop you."

Robin looked suspicious, but she nodded her head and was led upstairs. She sat down on the sofa, and Sherlock sat in his chair. The little girl's arms were crossed over her chest and she scowled at the consulting detective.

"Robin, listen to me," Sherlock said, "Your dad, has a lot of enemies. A _lot_ of enemies, and most of them wouldn't think twice about hurting you. Your dad's… job, is really dangerous, and when I spoke with him today, I promised him that I would keep you safe while you're here in London."

"Why would you promise that if you and my dad are enemies," Robin asked, looking at him.

"Robin, I think your dad, was really glad that out of all the people who might have found you, that it was me," Sherlock said, "Because out of his enemies, I'm the one who has morals and a conscience. I would never hurt you, no matter whose child you are, I would not hurt you unless you tried to hurt me. And even then, I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Promise?" Robin asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"I promise," Sherlock told her, taking her hand gently in his, and giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He didn't work with children often, but he couldn't not work with this one.

Jim was a nervous wreck thinking about his daughter, staying with Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock was the good guy, but there was so much tension between them, what if he hurt her to get him to do what he said. But Sherlock had promised he wouldn't hurt her, as long as Jim did what he said, but Jim didn't know who or what he could trust in this situation.

He heard his phone go off. It was a text from Sherlock. He opened it quickly, his heartbeat speeding up. It was a picture message of a prepubescent girl in a Twilight t-shirt blowing a bubble as she sat on Sherlock's sofa. Jim's breathing stopped for a few seconds as he stared at the picture. He held his phone to his chest for a moment. He hadn't seen her since she was a baby. He'd distanced himself as much as he could and had other people keep an eye on her for him. That's how he knew she went missing. There was a little note under the picture.

"She's her father's child in every way. –SH"

Jim felt a little teary-eyed, which was strange for him. He didn't normally feel emotional like this. He sent a simple message back.

"Thank you. –JM"


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock had set up a cot for Robin in his room. She could have slept on the sofa, but Sherlock was a little on edge and wanted to keep a close eye on her, for several reasons. Firstly, he had promised that she would be safe. She was a young girl whom, by association might have some dangerous people after her.

The second reason though, was even more worrisome than the first. This little girl had quite a violent nature. She was also dangerously loyal to a father she had never met, which got Sherlock thinking. What if, perhaps this was all a clever plan to get him to lower his guard? What if she was sent here to spy on him? Or worse yet, what if she wasn't even his daughter and she was just a young paid actress?

Sherlock peered over at her from his bed. She was still fast asleep, curled up under blankets they had borrowed from Mrs. Hudson. The consulting detective crept out of bed, grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom to change. He pulled on a red dress shirt and trousers and slipped on his shoes.

"Meet at the coffee shop 3 blocks from Baker St.-SH"

Sherlock sent the text. He went upstairs and knocked on John's door.

"John, I need you to keep an eye on the girl," he said. John was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Sherlock, I'm a doctor not a babysitter," John mumbled.

"She's American, just set her in front of the telly. Or take her sight-seeing, she's never been in London before." Sherlock said.

"You're going to talk to him again?" John asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said.

"She's really his?" John asked. Sherlock had to think for a moment. There was too much resemblance. She couldn't be an actress.

"Absolutely," he said, "And she is not going back across the Atlantic without seeing her sorry excuse for a father. Don't mention him to her. Don't talk about him no matter how much she tries to bring up the topic."

"Fine, fine," John muttered. Sherlock looked down at his phone.

"I'll pick you up. Come outside, my car's waiting. –JM"

Sherlock looked at John.

"Could I borrow your gun?" he asked.

"God, yes," John said, putting the weapon into Sherlock's hands. He tucked it away into his inside coat pocket and stepped out. The car was there as Jim had said. The door was opened and Jim was in the backseat, waiting for Sherlock.

"Do you think I'm going to get into your car?" Sherlock asked.

"You have my daughter, Sherlock. And I'm assuming John knows she's mine. If something happened to you, I wouldn't put it past him to exact his revenge on a young girl." Jim said, "He's very… attached to you."

Sherlock still looked suspicious, narrowing his eyes, peering into the car.

"I thought we could talk a little more freely in a less public place. Unless you're still scared of me, even when you hold the trump card," Jim said. Sherlock stiffened at the accusation and climbed into the car. The car drove away, and the two men sat in silence for a while.

"Tell me about her…" Jim said suddenly, "Tell me about Robin."

Sherlock was realizing that Jim really did care about his daughter. But Jim was a good actor. It was hard to tell what was real.

"She's very… American," Sherlock said.

"I was afraid of that," Jim said with a small chuckle.

"She also has some violent tendencies," Sherlock said, "She threatened to rip my arm off. And for never having met you… she's incredibly loyal."

"She is?" Jim looked up.

"She wanted to leave Baker Street and try to find you herself when she figured out that we don't get along," Sherlock said, "I told her she couldn't go. I explained as best I could how dangerous that would be."

"Thank you," Jim said, "I… I'm glad she went to you… You say you would, but I don't think you'd hurt her. You're right, I won't take that risk… but I know she's safer with you…"

Again silence fell over them for a long time. Jim looked over at Sherlock.

"What do you want from me Sherlock?" Jim asked.

"I want you to be her father," Sherlock said, "That's all."


	4. Chapter 4

Robin was sprawled across the sofa, lying with her feet in the air and her head dangling off the couch upside down. Sherlock came into the living room to see her sitting like this.

"Boooooored…" she whined. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. It was like looking into a mirror for a moment.

"You talk to my dad?" she asked, her brown eyes moving up to him.

"Yes," Sherlock responded, "You are to stay at Baker Street until further notice."

"I don't believe you," Robin said, looking at him. "You're my dad's enemy. How can I trust anything you say?"

"You are not to be wandering around London alone," Sherlock said sternly.

"Why not? I've wandered around New York alone," she said, her feet tapping against the wall above the sofa.

"You're safety is my responsibility," Sherlock said angrily, "There are people who would skin you alive to mess with your father."

"I don't believe you," Robin said.

"Oh no?" Sherlock asked, "You little American tart."

Sherlock was losing his temper with her.

"And what's wrong with being American?" Robin asked, "America is the greatest country in the world!"

"You're dad's British, and you're British by blood," Sherlock pointed out.

"Oh, I shall practice my snooty accent," Robin said with an almost British accent, but not quite.

Sherlock turned away from her. He lifted his violin and began to play. It was good for calming him down.

"Seriously, Mr. Holmes, how can I believe you?" Robin asked, "You've openly admitted to being my dad's enemy."

Sherlock looked at her. She did have a point, but he didn't want to deal with it. He went into his phone and pulled up Jim's number.

"Text him," he said, "Don't send it until I look at it."

Robin looked at him suspiciously, but took his phone and typed.

"Dad, this is Robin, your daughter. Mr. Holmes is taking adequate care of me, but I know he's your enemy. He says you want me to stay with him. I don't believe him. Please respond promptly. – Robin"

Sherlock took his phone and read it over before he hit the send button. They both waited. Robin was staring intensely at Sherlock's phone until it beeped and he opened it.

"Give it!" she shouted, reaching for the phone.

"I'll read it," Sherlock said. He cleared his throat, "Robin, I'm glad to hear you're being taken care of. I'm sure you've been told I have many enemies, and Mr. Holmes is one of them, but he is a great and trustworthy man and I know that you are safe with him. Please stay with him at Baker Street until you return to America. –Dad"

Robin looked more suspicious than ever. She snatched the phone and began to type.

"I don't believe you're my dad. You're probably one of Mr. Holmes' friends pretending to be my dad. If you expect me to do as you say you have to prove you're really my father. –Robin."

After a few seconds the phone beeped again. Sherlock looked down at the text.

"May I call her? –JM"

The detective thought about it for a moment.

"Speaker phone. – SH"

The phone began to ring. Sherlock put it on speaker phone and set it on the table.

"Hello?" Moriarty's voice came through the speakers.

"You're on speaker phone. I can hear everything you say," Sherlock said.

"That's fine," Jim replied, "Robin?"

"Yeah?" the little girl had her arms crossed over her chest, not believing for one second that this was really her father, "So how are you going to prove you're my dad?"

"I don't know," Jim admitted, "I barely know you. But I'll try. I send you a check on the second Tuesday of every month for 2000 American dollars.. Your birthday is October 16th."

"Anyone could know that," Robin said.

"You're middle name is Jameson," Jim said. This caught her attention a bit. Very few people knew her middle name.

"Well, if you're my dad, you'd know what my mom looked like. I have a picture of her," the little girl said.

"Your mother was a petite woman, about 5'3," Jim began, "She had sweet auburn hair that curled gently around her face and beautiful green eyes. He name was Emily Gale."

Sherlock looked at Robin who looked stunned.

"Do you believe me?" Jim asked.

"Yes… yes I believe you…" she said softly, "Dad…"

"I'm so sorry," Jim said, "I'm sorry I never came to see you. I only wanted you to be safe."

"You really want me here with your enemy?" Robin asked.

"Sherlock Holmes is a good man. He'll keep you safe." Jim said, "He… is the closest thing to a friend someone like me can have."

Robin eyes looked over at Sherlock and saw a slight pink color had risen to the man's cheeks.

"He's blushing," she announced, turning her face to him, "Have you got a crush on my dad?"

"Sherlock?" Jim sounded surprised and in a bit of a panic, Sherlock turned off his phone.

"Hey! I was talking!" Robin said angrily.

"And now you're not," Sherlock said, slipping his phone away, "Go practice your snooty accent."


	5. Chapter 5

Robin was sitting on the couch, watching a Crime drama. She looked terribly bored. Sherlock walked past her and dropped a book into her lap.

"What's this?" she asked, glancing down at it.

"A book, obviously," the detective said, not looking back at her, as he headed over to where he had been conducting an experiment with different blood types.

"No, really? What's it about?" Robin grumbled.

"You've honestly never heard of Harry Potter?" Sherlock looked at her in disbelief.

"Heard of it, yeah, but it looked dumb. I'm a Twihard," Robin said, pointing at her t-shirt.

"Read it. I'll bet you ten pounds you'll love it," Sherlock said, "And speaking of Twilight. You've been wearing that 'Team Edward' shirt for the past three days."

"Well... I ran away so I packed light," Robin said, crossing her arms over her chest, looking a little embarrassed, "And you won't let me leave this house! Take me shopping and I'll wear different clothes!"

"Fine, let's go," the detective said, leaving his experiment to grab his coat.

"What, really?" Robin blinked in surprise.

"Your clothes are beginning to offend," Sherlock said, "If you don't have anything else to wear then we'll have to go shopping. JOHN! WE'RE GOING SHOPPING!" Sherlock yelled up the stairs.

"For groceries?" John asked, coming down the stairs.

"For clothes!" Robin said excitedly. John's face fell.

"No," he said, glaring at Sherlock.

"Yes," Sherlock replied simply.

"Sherlock, no," John shook his head.

"Yes, John, we need groceries anyway and you have more knowledge of girls' clothing. You have a sister," Sherlock said.

"Exactly!" John said, "I got dragged around for clothes shopping before and I don't really want to relive it."

"Then you can handle the groceries primarily. I just want you there in case I need help," Sherlock said, "Come on."

Sherlock hailed a cab as the left the flat.

"I didn't get to look around much while I was searching for Baker Street," Robin said. John was holding onto her wrist lightly. It was a natural reaction to having a child. He didn't want her not seeing a car and getting run over. Sherlock glanced behind them when they climbed into the cab. They were being followed by someone. For once, Sherlock hoped that it _was_ Moriarty. If it wasn't, he was a little afraid of who it might actually be.

It wasn't a long drive to the shopping center. Sherlock got out first followed by John who helped Robin out. Robin looked around excitedly.

"You have bigger shopping centers in New York don't you?" John asked.

"Uh, yeah, duh!" Robin said, "But I've never been to a European shopping center, so it's exciting!"

"Speaking of that, did you have your currency converted when you arrived here?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm not an idiot! Of course I did!" Robin said, but the mild insult to her intelligence didn't bother her for long. She looked around some more. "London is really beautiful..."

"I thought that America was the 'greatest country in the world,'" Sherlock said.

"It is!" Robin insisted, "I'm just saying London is really pretty. The building are so cute and old fashioned."

"Some of the buildings are older than America itself," John pointed out.

"Seriously?!" Robin looked shocked. Sherlock laughed.

"You are so blissfully ignorant of the world outside New York City, aren't you?" he said.

"What can you expect?" Robin asked, pouting slightly, "I've lived in New York all of my life. Don't pick on me!"

"Sherlock, I'm going to get the groceries. If you have problems with the clothes you can text me," John said. Sherlock was once again left alone with the daughter of Jim Moriarty. He still had the feeling of being watched. He had to make sure. He sent a quick text..

"Is that you? -SH"

He didn't want to arouse suspicion so they carried on to the junior's department. Robin looked through the racks of clothes and was disappointed.

"Where are all the graphic and music tees?" she asked.

"Since you're living with me, you're going to start dressing like a young lady," Sherlock said as firmly as he could.

"I'm behind you. -JM"

Sherlock didn't immediately turn around. Despite her ignorance and the insufferable idiot tone of her voice, Sherlock knew that Robin Gale could _not_ be an idiot. So he waited it out, walking around the rack of clothes until he was facing Jim.

"So what, do I have to wear like dresses and stuff now?" Robin asked.

"You can still have your t-shirts," Sherlock said, "Don't you want to wear something nice for when you eventually meet your father?"

"So I'm actually going to meet him?" Robin's brown eyes lit up with excitement. This seemed to encourage her shopping.

"Whatever you pick, keep it practical," Sherlock said, "Remember that London can be very cold and wet."

"Yeah, yeah," Robin muttered, looking through the clothes, "What color does my dad like? I really like royal blue. Do you think he would like that? Ooh... but I like candy apple red too..."

Sherlock looked at her like a deer in the headlights. He had absolutely no idea what to say. He pulled out his phone.

"Molly, can you do me a favor? Meet me at the shopping center near St. Bart's in the girls' clothing section.-SH"

Molly had actually been shopping herself, which was convenient. When she got the text a very puzzled expression came to her face. She walked towards the clothing department and sure enough amid the brightly colored clothing stood the dark figure of Sherlock Holmes, looking increasingly awkward. Molly saw the little girl who was going through the racks of clothing, chattering away. Sherlock walked over to her.

"Molly, thank god," he said, taking her hands in his, "Can you please help this girl pick out some clothing? She's been rambling on about colors that I've never even heard of! What on earth is a 'dark ultramarine?'"

Molly hid a smile. She couldn't help it. Seeing Sherlock all flustered was just about the cutest thing she'd ever seen in her life.

"Sure, I can help," she said, "Who is she?"

"Her name is Robin," Sherlock said, "She's temporarily in my custody."

Sherlock led Molly over to Robin who sort of peered at her suspiciously.

"Robin, this is my friend Molly. She's going to help you pick out some clothes and try them on, would that be alright?" Sherlock asked.

"You're not going to leave me here are you?" Robin asked.

"Of course not!" Sherlock said, "I'm just not very good at helping you, so Molly is going to do that. I'll be over in the next aisle." Sherlock was grabbed by Jim around the corner.

"What are you doing here?" the detective hissed, "Are you trying to expose your daughter?"

"No... I just... wanted to be sure she was alright..." Jim said.

"I told you I would take care of her. Unlike you, I'm not a huge liar," Sherlock said.

"I'm sorry..." Jim said, looking nervous and worried. Sherlock looked down at him and sighed. It was hard to be angry with him when he looked so pathetic and was worrying about his only child.

"It's alright," he told him, "But you need to leave. You've seen she's safe, we'll set up a time for you to meet her. You do want to, don't you?"

"Mmhmm..." Jim nodded his head. His face was slightly flushed and he looked at the floor.

"I can't thank you enough," Jim whispered, "You never have to worry about death threats being sent to you ever again. I'll neutralize them all. Thank you..."

"You're welcome..." Sherlock responded.


End file.
